


Unnerved

by thebearking



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, Loki Has Issues, Loki-centric, M/M, Mutant Reader, Other, POV Loki, Pining, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-11-20 10:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebearking/pseuds/thebearking
Summary: Loki finds himself enjoying Midgard where you're concerned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ok so i may or may not have read a 104-chapter loki fic and become a bit of a loki stan SO here is a lil something i wrote for him immediately afterward. it's just a short multi-part fic. i'm just splitting it into chapters because it got pretty long.
> 
> this one completely diverges from canon tbh. i do what i want. in this one, loki is captured at some point after the incident in new york, some time after what happened in sokovia, pre-civil war, and now he's living with the avengers while they try to "tame" him, i guess. enjoy!
> 
> btw the fic i read is "power and magic" by sidrisa. please check it out! it's long of course but so lovely (and it's a black!reader so of course i loved it). it honestly reads like a novel.

Your very existence unsettled him.

That’s what he decided, a few days after meeting you. Hel, a few hours after meeting you he had already decided what to think of you. Unsettling. Annoying. Uncontrollable. He was captured, and Thor was leading him into some Midgardian vehicle, and unlike the rest of your companions, you never failed to meet his eyes, to match his stare with a defiant lift of your chin. You would fix him with that amusingly unintimidating scowl, and yet, despite how endearing you looked, it was a success.

Loki was thoroughly, and mysteriously, unsettled.

You were close to his brother, and his brother liked you a lot, smothering you in enormous hugs and sweeping you off your feet whenever the two of you were reunited. He could see in both you and Thor that there was nothing more than friendship, or perhaps a bond more akin to partners in crime, to siblings, even.

And yet whenever he saw the two of you embrace or laugh, he couldn’t help the sting of… _something_. Bitterness. Envy, perhaps.

He knew again that you were different when he was brought to his hearing in chains, when he noticed immediately that you were present, when he was yearning for you to just _look_ at him, instead of staring at some speck on the wall. Your aura shimmered more brightly than any he had ever seen—or perhaps it was just his own eagerness to see it. It was easy for him to focus on you, and you seemed to be all he could focus on.

They decided to let him stay, and he wanted so badly for your eyes to have truly lit up like he thought they did. It could have been one of his own tricks.

You weren’t warm to him at first. You were curt, and then cordial. He wondered if it was Thor’s doing, making you the least bit friendly with him, his pathetic prisoner brother. He found himself spending less time testing the confines of the magical barrier placed on him by the Scarlet Witch and more time wondering how to get you to speak more than ten words to him. He spent less time planning his inevitable and bloody escape and more time learning about you. He hadn’t felt curiosity this intense for a while now, and though it was unexpected, and almost unwelcome, he decided that it couldn’t hurt to study you.

He watched at first, to learn. Talking to you would come later.

He watched you at breakfast. You were a late riser, when you could help it, shuffling into the kitchen still in your sleep clothes, your eyes small and groggy. You were fairly new to the team, just two years under your belt; you had seen what Loki had done to New York but had not been in the battle yourself. And now here you were, an Avenger, among others. The blond one, America’s sweetheart, seemed to be closest to you, or at least the one you had known the longest. Your recruiter, perhaps? Loki was a bit ashamed of himself when he immediately searched for any hint of chemistry between you and the blond, desperately, and when he found none, he sighed with relief. The redhead—she would never warm up to him, and he knew it. He didn’t deserve her respect, so he wouldn’t beg for it. She seemed to treat you like a younger sibling. He could see her taking you under her wing, perhaps as a combat instructor, though he had seen you fight, and he knew your skills had been honed over the course of several years’ practice. The archer always accompanied the redhead, and though Loki had surely destroyed his mind years before, he seemed to cope with snark and half-serious threats. Loki liked that the man wasn’t afraid to speak to him. The quiet, dark-haired one, the scientist with the raging green temper—he avoided Loki at all costs. You were kind to him, listening to his ramblings about whatever discovery he and the other, louder dark-haired one had made the previous day—or night. The dark circles under the scientist’s eyes and the enormous amounts of coffee consumed by the louder dark-haired one, the billionaire who owned the tower, seemed to suggest that the two spent numerous nights in the laboratory. The winged man, the veteran, was the calming glue that held the team together. He was a good listener, a patient teacher, an eager learner, and a jokester. He treated you like family, and with his warm aura and glowing smile, Loki could see why you liked his company. The winged one’s current patient? The Winter Soldier, his left arm gleaming dangerously silver. You were fond of this one, Loki could tell. The young witch and her speedster brother often kept to themselves. Loki desired a moment alone with the witch, to see what sorcery he was up against, though he knew her twin would never allow it. And of course, there was Thor, who insisted on being by Loki’s side as often as possible, for the safety of everyone in the tower.

By the time you shuffled into the kitchen in the morning, Loki would be sitting in the adjoining room, nursing a cup of tea, mulling things over. Then you’d enter and his focus would shift, pinpointing on you. It was bizarre, how quickly you could seize his attention. You would quietly wish everyone around the room good morning and when you went to the living room, holding a plate of whatever to fill your roaring belly, you would even nod at Loki in greeting, or flash him a small smile, one that shone more distinctly in your eyes than on your lips.

One morning, when he had been living with you all for a little over a month, you even sat beside him on the couch and offered him a bit of your breakfast. You were in a good mood, he could tell, but for whatever reason he could never guess. He ran through lists of possible explanations: a lover, but no, while your skin indeed possessed a soft glow, it was not from a night of well spent exertion; your birthday, but no, everyone would be celebrating; a raise in pay, but no, that smile did not look grateful, only more pleased than usual.

How much were the lot of you paid anyway?

“I suspect you slept well” was all Loki could muster. Something about the look in your eyes demanded from him a response, and he found himself wanting to speak to you. His first words to you, and he was already regretting opening his traitorous mouth. “Well rested looks…decent on you.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Really?” You sipped from your glass of juice. “I’d agree with you if I hadn’t been plagued with nightmares all night. As usual.”

He didn’t understand why you were telling him this, but he accepted it. “If it’s nightmares keeping you up, I can help with that. If you were to convince your witchy friend, that is.”

You smiled, and he felt a tug in his heart, perhaps on the literal strings of his heart, played like a harp by _you_. “I’m afraid she’d need more than my convincing, but I’ll see what I can do. Thank you.” You cocked your head to the side, regarding him impishly. “Trickster,” you added, and your smile turned teasing.

Loki could do nothing but stare at you in what he hoped was offense veiling his shock (and his amusement). He was still trying to think of what he did to deserve that smile, and here you were thanking him, _teasing_ him. He quickly composed himself, his eyes turning hard. “Warrior,” he returned coolly.

He would never grow tired of that smile, he decided, finally accepting a bite of your breakfast—and whatever friendship you were offering him.

The next day, you let him know that the barrier had been lessened some, allowing him to help you sleep fitfully for the night.

Hel, all this undeserved kindness on your part and unexplainable obsession on his part was disgusting him. It was choking him. It even frightened him.

No, he wasn’t afraid of you.

But he was afraid of how you made him feel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evidently, watching you fight is not quite as fun as actually fighting you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i myself am still trying to figure out what ability the reader has, so interpret as you will!

He was accustomed to lust, to desire. When he saw a pretty thing that he wanted, he took it. It often came willingly into his arms. But you—for you he felt simple intrigue. He felt a mess of things for you but all he could distinguish (and cared to admit) was intrigue.

Over time, your small talk turned to questions about his homeworld, about his magic and his princehood and everything you could ever want to know about him. He felt guilty for not knowing what to ask you, since he wanted to know everything about you, too. He settled for what he already knew.

On most days, you spent hours in the gym at a time, training alone or with the others. Thor allowed Loki to sit in on group sparring sessions. The blond one, the redhead, and the Winter Soldier were your prime critics, and though Loki knew their critiques were founded in truth (and often asked for by you yourself), he couldn’t help but bristle each time the Winter Soldier placed his hands on you to correct your stance or demonstrating exactly how fast a move should be executed. You were powerful; Loki didn’t know exactly what earned you a place on this team other than your fighting skill, but he could guess. You were inhumanly strong, closer to Thor’s brute strength than that of the super soldiers. Loki had yet to see you in a real battle, but he came close. During some sessions, when the Winter Soldier slammed you to the floor with more force than usual, or when the redhead kicked you square in the chest and sent you flying into a wall—your eyes would glow, just your eyes, flashing green-gold, like a cat’s in the dark. He tried to squash the smugness that swelled in his chest; those were his colors after all.

No wonder your aura was so bright. There was some otherworldly power living inside you, and Loki wanted to meet it.

One day, once you had pinned Thor to the mat with his arms twisted behind his back, Loki decided he was ready. You were ready. He rose from his seat against the wall and stepped onto the mat, shouldering past the blond one and the Winter Soldier. If the redhead were here, she surely would have thrown Loki back before he could blink, or at least attempted to.

You looked up, and the green-gold glow faded from your eyes, but your cocky smile didn’t. “Looking for something, trickster?”

Loki sneered. “Only for an opponent, warrior, and judging by your performances these past months, I could find no better one than in you.” His tone was arrogant, but his words were sincere.

You released Thor, who rolled to the side, jumped to his feet, and frowned at his brother suspiciously. “What are the rules?” you queried.

“Oh, I have none for you,” he replied smoothly, “for now. And have you any rules for me?”

You considered him for a moment, crossing your arms and appraising him from head to toe. Your stare made him feel nude—no, not nude, for he had never felt ashamed of nudity. Your stare made him feel vulnerable. “No boots,” you told him.

“Very well.” They dissolved and reappeared on the floor a few feet back, a good distance away from the ring. The blond one began to protest. Thor took a step forward. You weren’t listening, eyes fixated on Loki. “Shall we begin?” he drawled.

You were on him like fire.

Loki learned quite a bit more about you when the two of you first fought. He learned that while watching you was satisfying, there was nothing so remarkable as feeling the force of your blows, as seeing the fury of battle burning in your eyes like green-gold stars. You were strong, fast, moving forward with constant blows to overwhelm him, to bend him into submission. He spent most of the fight dodging you, sneaking in swings and kicks when he could. He found himself smirking with delight at your ferocity, even while your fists and bare feet struck him hard enough to bruise.

The fight ended with Loki lying flat on his back and you kneeling over him, your hand gripping his throat. He lifted a brow at you, and you squeezed, just enough to threaten him, to remind him of what you could do. He chuckled. Somehow your strength was different from Thor’s. It wasn’t humiliating, only humbling. Your snarl melted into a grin.

“A good fight, warrior.” You looked up, and there he was, standing there with not a scratch on him, still clad in his boots. Your mouth opened, ready to unleash a string of curses at his blatant trickery, but he wagged a finger at you. “Now, when have I ever kept my word? Perhaps tomorrow I’ll fight you for real.”

You frowned up at him, and the Loki double beneath you dissolved into nothingness. Thor shook his head, disappointed but not surprised. The blond appeared to be consoling the puzzled-looking Winter Soldier, who’d had yet to witness Loki’s enchantments until now.

“Until now,” Loki yawned, returning to his seat against the western wall of the gym, “entertain me. Perhaps you, Winter Soldier? Or Thor, would you prefer to try and win back your honor…and my respect?”

Thor scoffed. “Your respect means little to me, brother.”

“And your honor, too, if you allow a Midgardian to floor you.”

You were hiding a snicker behind your hand. “I think I’m actually done for the day, boys. I’ll be in my room. Call FRIDAY if you need me.” With that, you left the room, grabbing your water bottle and towel on the way out.

Loki was left thinking about other ways to bond with you, ways that wouldn’t involve him—or copies of him—being pummeled into dust.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor is annoying and you are, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i expect one, maybe two more parts for this

With other people, his instinct was to scorn, to taunt, to establish his rank with hateful words. With you, he only wanted to keep you near. And he wanted you to want to be around him.

That’s what he wanted: reciprocation. It would make him feel less pathetic.

He began following you around, at first from a distance, but you were smart, and his illusions were weak when he was so focused upon you. You caught him over and over, following you down the hall, spying on you from the balcony. He would vanish the moment you spotted him, but it became a sort of game: how long would it take before you realized he was watching you? Eventually, he gave up the game altogether and simply joined you physically. You were pleasant company, and he wanted to know more about Midgard, in spite of his initial disgust with the realm.

When he foolishly admitted this to you, you beamed. “We’re not as soft as you thought, are we, trickster?” you quipped, tapping him on the nose. You laughed at his scowl.

Thor caught on quickly, the imbecile.

“You’re fond of the fierce little warrior,” he said, smiling secretively. “Tell me, brother, what are you going to do about it?”

“Shut up.” Loki hated that Thor had his own epithet for you.

“When will you confess? I believe the little warrior is fond of you, too.”

“I will not speak of this with you.”

“Fine, but we will speak of this eventually.” Thor clapped him on the back. “I’m happy for you, brother.”

Loki scoffed, and Thor left him to his own devices. He decided to find you, closing his eyes and searching for that familiar light that alerted him to your presence. There it was, a gold aura, smoldering one floor below him. With the magical barrier weakened, he could do little more than measly illusions, teleportation, aura-reading. Yours was so easy to find.

He materialized in your room, and you nearly fell off your bed with a shout.

“Shit! Loki, you almost gave me a heart attack!”

“My apologies. Perhaps you should learn not to let others sneak up on you.”

“Maybe you should learn not to sneak up on people!” You were annoyed, but not angry. That was good. He wouldn’t be able to handle your anger.

“Then I will do my best to never do that again. These are your quarters, then? How quaint.” He made his way around your bedroom, studying the posters on the walls, the photographs of your friends and family. You had an entire bulletin board dedicated to the Avengers, it seemed: photos of Banner working with vials of chemicals, Stark flipping off the camera while he drank coffee, Wilson soaring on his wings, Romanoff and Barton sleeping on the couch, the Winter Soldier and Captain America wrestling each other. You had many photos of Thor, including those that his brother had only recently discovered were a Midgardian trend. Modern self portraits, of sorts. “You like photography?”

“Oh, I’m just good with a phone camera,” you laughed. “But yes. Not many people print photos anymore and I want to…oh, I don’t know…immortalize those happy memories.”

He had a feeling you were just pulling longer words from the air to impress him. “I am almost offended that with as long as I’ve lived here, there is nothing to immortalize your memories of me, warrior.”

You grinned. “I guess I just didn’t think you liked being in pictures, but you are pretty vain, so let’s start now.” You patted a spot on the bed next to you vigorously.

He sat down and you shifted closer to him, practically crawling into his lap as you wrapped an arm around his shoulders, smushed your cheek against his, and snapped a photo of the two of you.

You showed it to him while he was too dazed to process your closeness. You frowned. “It’s so zoomed in. Here, your arms are long. You try.” You handed him the phone.

Loki stared down at the device helplessly. “Make no mistake, I am wise, but I’m afraid I know nothing of your Midgardian technologies, warrior.”

“Oh, here, I’ll show you.” You put your hand over his and held it out to where you wanted it. Then your arm was around him again, pulling him close, and your head lay in the curve of his neck and shoulder. “Just press that button.” You pointed to the round white button at the bottom of the screen.

He held his thumb down on the button, and you laughed, taking the phone from him again. “Don’t hold the button down! That takes hundreds of photos.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“It’s called a ‘burst.’ It’s like a mode of the camera. Here.” You tapped and swiped and the screen shifted to an entire gallery of photos. You tapped again, and up popped the image he had taken of you two. And another. And another. Fifteen of them, each of them differing only in your expression. His remained the same, wearing a serious look. He wasn’t ready to smile for you yet. Not on command. You, however, were smiling brightly, at least in the first few pictures. You laughed as you swiped left and the pictures showed you turning more and more surprised.

“You should have been more specific when you said ‘press,’” Loki muttered.

You shoved him lightly with your shoulder. “Oh, quit it. You’ll learn. C’mon, I’ll print a good one out in Tony’s office and we can pin it up on my board.” You stood and led the way out of your apartment and into the hall.

You let him pin the photo wherever he wanted. He chose the furthest spot from any photo of Thor.

You were patient, as patient as Wilson, with everyone in the tower, including Loki. He didn’t know how you could tolerate him, cold and snarky as he was, but you did, and you even seemed to enjoy having him around.

That’s how, a few weeks later, he ended up sitting on the floor between your legs, with your hands in his hair.

He could think of a few things he’d like to do with you from this position, but for now he sat with his back to you while you combed your fingers through his tresses. You had the television on, and he was watching a segment about animals in the Serengeti. It was surprisingly interesting.

“You remind me of those cats,” Loki remarked, referring to the pride of lionesses currently bringing a buffalo to its knees. “Ferocious. Calculating. Hunters. You may be endearing but there’s a fire in you, warrior. I’ve seen it. It’s…thrilling.”

You were silent for several seconds. He worried that he had upset you, but then he heard you snicker. “You think I’m endearing?” you cooed, leaning over to place your chin on Loki’s head. “So sweet.”

“A mere slip of the tongue,” Loki grumbled. He would have left you but he was too comfortable; even on the uncomfortable carpet floor, your fingernails skimming his scalp, carding through his hair, felt heavenly.

“Oh, Loki, you don’t need to pretend it’s not true. I know I’m endearing. It’s just nice to hear you admit it.” Then you kissed the crown of his head and he wondered if his heart truly stopped in his chest. “You’re endearing, too.”

He went on grumbling under his breath but couldn’t find it in him to be truly upset with you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get injured on a mission, and Loki reflects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo! an update! there should be one more chapter to this fic and then it's done. but make no mistake; i will be writing more for loki in the future. i had a dream about him last night wherein we were in love and i got to cup his beautiful face in my hands. it's destiny.
> 
> thank you all for reading!

You were getting more affectionate with him. It started with that chaste kiss, and it only escalated. You gave him hugs. You burrowed against him when you were tired. You begged him to carry you to your room when you were too tired. You even tried to carry him. You were halfway successful.

He loved your attention. He reveled in it. The stroke of your hand in his hair or a massage on his tense neck and shoulders could leave him all but purring like a cat.

Even in front of the others you were not shy. Back in Asgard, Loki never hesitated to show how handsy he and his lovers were (mostly to make Thor uncomfortable), but you were different. You weren’t a lover at all, more of a friend, but the way he felt about you and looked at you and thought about you told him otherwise. If you asked him to take you to bed, he would not refuse.

And sometimes, when you caught him staring at you and your eyes went deep and smoky, his breath would catch in his throat and he’d wonder if this was the moment he’d been waiting for. Then you would boop him on the nose and the moment was held off once again.

“You know, Loki, I never took you for someone who would let a human get so close to you,” said Tony, watching you and Loki from the kitchen counter. “Someone’s got you wrapped around their finger.”

Loki bristled. You were resting with your head in his lap while he read a book you had recommended. “If it helps, Tony, he surprises me every day, too,” you murmured, not bothering to open your eyes.

What did that mean?

 _What are you talking about?_ he asked you. This had become a habit between the two of you, communicating through thoughts whenever you opened up your mind to him.

 _You do. You’re becoming more adventurous._ He watched your lips quirk into a smug little grin. _It’s nice. It’s cute._

He scoffed. _Don’t expect much else from me, warrior. Your kindness only goes so far, and so will your patience._

_You say that and yet here I am, sleeping on you. You’re a good pillow, trickster._

_That’s enough._

He wasn’t allowed to go on missions yet, still confined to the tower while you and the others went off to save the day. You always came back covered in dirt but with a smile on your face at the sight of him. He’d wait in your apartment while you cleaned up, and then you would tell him everything.

It was a routine.

You loved to give him things, trinkets that he would not have given a second glance had they not come from you specifically. You gave him one of your hair ties, a simple black one you typically wore on your wrist, and insisted he keep it. His hair was getting long, past his shoulders now, so he would need it. He refused to thank you for it. When he came to breakfast the following morning with his hair pulled back into a sleek tail, you couldn’t stop looking at him. He’d loved it.

Your next gift was a seashell, a deep brown conch with creamy flecks. Then a green rock you found at the park. Most of your gifts were rocks. These all sat on his book shelf, next to a photo of you and him that you’d framed.

One day you gave him your phone and let him take whatever photographs he wanted. He spent the day following you around, shooting pictures when you weren’t looking. You let him keep those for himself. His favorite was one he’d taken of you fighting the Winter Soldier, where you were circling each other, your shoulders hunched forward, your eyes flashing green and gold. You looked so mighty.

He was unprepared to see you hurt.

When he came to the hangar one evening expecting to see you bounding toward him and instead saw you wheeled out on a stretcher, the smile melted from his face like wax from a candle. He darted forward to follow, but they wouldn’t let him go with you. He considered asking the Scarlet Witch to let down the wall and allow him to heal you himself, but he didn’t know if he had the strength, and from the looks of your teammates, they firmly believed that you were in capable hands. He considered watching the surgery himself in an incorporeal form, but the idea of seeing you in such a vulnerable state would only make him more anxious.

He spent hours in his quarters, pacing, fuming. Worrying.

He found out from Wilson that you were shot twice by enemy mercenaries, then knocked unconscious from a fall from a considerable height. Stark promised that you were under the best care. Loki’s hands sizzled a deep and dangerous green. He internalized it as best he could, until at one point he let it all go with an enraged shout and his measly number of belongings were thrown from his shelf. He managed to salvage all of your gifts, but the framed photo of the two of you suffered a crack in the corner. He went to work placing everything back in its rightful place, book by book, rock by rock. It took his mind off of things. Momentarily.

He was notified by the AI when your surgery finished successfully at 2 AM. He went down to the infirmary at once to find you still asleep, so frail in your hospital bed. The lights were dim; he supposed you would need them this way when you woke up. He wondered how someone so powerful could be brought down and made to look so harmless, so serene. He often forgot that you were human, and breakable.

He sat down in the chair by the door and waited for you to awake. He found himself speaking to you while you slept.

“You terrified me,” he admitted. “You seem so invincible that I forget sometimes you are not. You’re strong, though. They told me you’ll live.”

You were silent. He crossed one leg over the other, folded his arms over his chest, and tried to look anywhere but you. He didn’t like seeing you look so small when your entire existence was so large. You could fill a room.

“You’ll have a lot to explain to me when you wake up,” he said stonily, “like how you managed to get shot twice in the chest.” A strand of his hair had escaped his ponytail. He tucked it behind his ear. “I’d tell you to be more careful, but I know that just as much as you go looking for trouble, trouble goes looking for you. I can’t ask that of you.”

Your fingers twitched. He nearly jumped in his seat.

He frowned. “No, I change my mind. You need to be more careful. You’re the only being on this entire planet that’s worthy of my attention. I won’t lose you. If I have to, I’ll bring you back from the dead myself. You’re not leaving me that easily.”

He thought he saw your eyelids flicker. Another trick of the light, or of his own subconscious.

“I’m bringing you to Asgard once they finally let me out of here. You’ll meet my mother. She’d love you. You’re so…spirited.” He could see his mother adoring you, not just because of your personality, but simply because he cared about you. “I don’t know how you and my father would get along, but it doesn’t matter. None of what they think of you matters. You would be in good care. Servants waiting on you hand and foot. An entire wing of the palace to yourself if you wish, but I imagine you’d want to interact with everyone.” He studied his fingernails; they were always black, thanks to his own magic, but you had insisted on painting them. You’d begged to paint them gold, but he consented only to a dark emerald green. According to you, it brought out his eyes. “You could stay with me if you wished. I have many rooms. Even my divan is comfortable. I’d feel better having you near.

“Thor would love to show you around. His friends would like you. You would like Sif. I imagine you’d like to spar with her the moment you met her.” His frown returned. “Fandral would want you all to himself. Everyone would. You’re magnetic. It’s infuriating. You’d be _my_ guest, after all. Mother would throw a banquet for you. I can already see it. She’d have clothes made for you, too.” He grinned. “You would look incredible in Asgardian armor. Different, but incredible.”

You were still silent.

He sighed and slouched in his chair, watching the sheet rise and fall with your breathing. “I hope you’ll come with me one day. I’d take you anywhere you wish to go. I promise.”

He fell asleep in that chair and woke up the following morning with the worst crick in his neck. He also woke up to find you sitting up in your bed, eating yogurt.

He leaped from his seat and went to you, kneeling down to get a closer look at you. There were those bright eyes of yours. You’d split open your bottom lip, and you had an ugly purple bruise on your cheek. “Are you all right?”

You nodded, but you were stiff in your movements. “Sore. All over. I fell pretty hard.”

“Where?”

“Not quite on my neck, but close. I’m pretty concussed.” You stared at your cup, swirling your spoon around to catch the last strawberry dregs. “Sorry, I know you must have worried about me.”

He huffed disdainfully. “‘Worried’ would be an understatement. In my proper state I could have healed you.” He looked down to see you smirking up at him. “What?”

“Your ponytail looks cute.” You shoveled more yogurt into your mouth. Even with a bruised cheek and trembling hands you managed to make licking from a tiny plastic spoon look seductive. He shifted his weight. “Want me to redo it?”

He pushed the flyaways from his face with a scoff. “No. I’ll do it myself. You can barely hold a spoon.”

You shrugged. “Your loss. I’m better at it anyway.”

“Oh, hush up. When did you awake?” Without lifting a finger, he moved the chair across the room to a spot right next to your bed. He sat down, enjoying your mystified reaction.

“About an hour ago. I had to pee so bad. Still do.”

“Why didn’t you wake me? I could have helped you to the bathroom.”

“Well, you looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you. And I knew you would wake up if I called a nurse, and I’m not peeing on a bedpan right in front of you, so I held it.”

He rolled his eyes and rose to his feet. “Hel, you’re stubborn. Come along. I’ll help you.”

You set the cup of yogurt on the bed and didn’t protest in the slightest when he scooped you up in his arms. He knew you liked being carried; you looked most pleased.

He spent every minute of your recovery with you. He let the nurses do their duty, redressing your wounds, checking your head wound, but what he knew he could do, he did, like helping you get to the bathroom, washing your hair. When you began to stink, he told you so, and he assisted you in the shower. You stripped down to your underwear and sat on a stool while he washed your back. Everything else was left to you. He couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to live with you and bathe together, what it would be like to wake up with you each morning, you sleeping in his bed in Asgard, or even here in Midgard. Seeing you awake and moving made these images even more vivid, made them seem more possible: holding you close while the two of you slept, teasing the back of your neck until you woke up and rolled over and smiled at him, dancing with you in the great halls of the Asgardian palace, showing you the quiet unknown beauties of his home realm, kissing you in the gardens, in his chambers, in his bed.

The idea of this soft, sweet intimacy with you left his heart stuttering.

He decided that when you had healed, when you were ready, he would tell you what he felt, but he had a feeling you already knew.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki confesses, thanks to a final push from Thor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, the end of the fic. thank you all for reading :)

It was a relief to see you up and about like your usual self once you recovered. You were eager to get back into fighting shape, and thanks to your mentors and your own incredible determination, you were back to besting Thor and flipping Barnes over your shoulder in no time. Loki was proud of you, but that would imply he had anything to do with your progress. He did little more than listen to your complaints and banter with you when you got in a feisty mood. Now that you were better, this meant he would no longer have to help you bathe, or dress, or walk. He had mixed feelings about this. He liked seeing you at your strongest, but he also missed having you rely on him. He decided that while you no longer required him to help you with the most mundane activities, you still relied on his presence, and that would be enough.

He was watching you spar with Romanoff one afternoon when Thor approached him again. “Brother, if you’ve come to talk about my love life again, I’ll silence you myself,” Loki hissed.

Thor grinned. “You’ve caught me. I just thought you would like to know that with the warrior recovered, there’s nothing stopping other members of SHIELD from…Oh, never mind.”

Loki whipped around to glare at his brother. “What are you playing at?”

Thor looked positively impish. “Well, you can’t possibly think the warrior has only caught your eyes and not the eyes of others. There are plenty of agents who’d love a moment alone with—”

“That’s enough. Leave me.”

Thor shrugged and left him, returning to the ring to take you on himself. Romanoff backed off, and Loki got a great amount of pleasure watching you beat his brother into the mat.

Still, Thor’s words rang in his ears. It was difficult for Loki to admit that his brother was right.

That night, you invited him up to the balcony for dinner, eager to dine with him “under the stars.” When he scoffed, you nudged him with your hip and teased him about how romantic it could be. This made him a little more enthusiastic. And a lot more anxious.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you murmured. The two of you had finished your meal, and now you were lying beside him on the blanket, your hips angled toward his, while you gazed up at the sky.

“The stars in Asgard are much more impressive,” Loki found himself saying. He glanced over at you to see you looking at him, your eyes flashing green and gold in the darkness. “At the palace, I could spend all night just stargazing in the garden. There, you can see millions more stars than you can see here.” He thought for a moment. “You would like it there.”

“Yeah?” You turned over onto your belly, watching him with a smirk. He nodded. “Well, when are you going to take me?”

That surprised him. He looked at you again, incredulous. “You wish to go to Asgard?”

“One day, yes. Whenever they let you out of here.” Now you looked sad, fiddling with the edge of the blanket as you cleared your throat. “I figured you’d want to return home, if they let you.”

He couldn’t help himself. “And you would miss me?” he teased.

You laughed. “Of course I would. You and Thor.” You sighed. “But mostly you. It wouldn’t feel like home without you, Loki.”

Loki blinked. He had wondered what he would do once he was allowed to leave. He would love to return to Asgard immediately, but a future without you didn’t seem like a future at all. He had grown accustomed to spending so much time with you. Living in an entirely different realm would be torture. “Then perhaps I’ll take you with me,” he murmured.

It was your turn to look incredulous. “Really?”

“Yes. I would smuggle you in myself. Steal you, if I have to.” He cleared his throat, sitting up and crossing his legs. “You could stay at the palace with me. You could meet my mother. She would love to meet my…” He stopped himself. “She would love to meet you.”

Your eyes lit up. “Love to meet your what?”

“I said she’d love to meet you.”

“That’s not what you were going to say.” You sat up on your haunches, smiling wickedly. “What were you going to say, Loki?”

“It’s none of your business. I simply misspoke.”

You shuffled over to him on your knees, taking his hand in both of yours. “What were you going to call me?”

He refused to meet your gaze, setting his jaw and pretending he hadn’t heard.

You sighed and sat next to him, resting your head against his shoulder. “And here I was thinking you cared about me,” you said loftily.

Loki rolled his eyes and put an arm around you, holding you close. “I do.”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear…”

He gritted his teeth. “I do care about you, you menace.”

Evidently content with his confession, you leaned into him. “I care about you, too.”

Loki let himself exhale, the tension in his shoulders releasing now that he’d put his feelings out into the open. You cared about him. You wanted to go to Asgard with him. He didn’t know how long you’d be willing to stay with him but he didn’t care. All he knew was that he was willing to spend as much time with you as possible. Moments like these were meant to be cherished. It felt natural to relax with you, to be at ease and enjoy himself with you.

No matter what realm the two of you were living in, he could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> tell me what you guys think the comments! i love hearing from you :)


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